


noodle-head.

by Irrwisch



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Lyrium Withdrawal, Nightmares, Past Events, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2015-09-17
Packaged: 2018-04-21 06:22:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4818428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irrwisch/pseuds/Irrwisch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after "Here Lies The Abyss" and "Wicked Eyes And Wicked Hearts". No spoilers for the missions, though. </p>
<p>It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He should feel better, but... he didn’t. </p>
<p>"They said you love me. You were blushing. It was adorable."</p>
            </blockquote>





	noodle-head.

**Author's Note:**

> I need to get better with summaries.   
> Also, I'm not too sure about this piece of work here. It's my first time with Cullen...  
> I'll admit, I may not have been so sure about the plot and in the end, plot made itself, as usual.  
> I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Surprisingly short for me :'D

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He should feel better, but... he didn’t.

Cullen paced around in his office; having simply no mind for his reports. They just recently returned from Halamshiral, and the Inquisitor had already left again due to a request made by Madame Vivienne. Why in the Void she needed a Snow Wyvern’s heart was truly beyond him; and why the Inquisitor had to throw herself in the beast’s path... at least Lavellan killed the Dragon in that area already. So he hadn’t to worry about her getting roasted by the Dragon in that blighted Swamp.

|

He should feel happy. Something anyway. But... he didn’t feel happy. Maybe he even felt worse. The night before the Inquisitor had set out again, she had spent with him. Cullen blushed just a tiny bit when he recalled how he swept everything off his desk. Despite his initial condition; how was he supposed to be working with _that_ desk?

The Commander groaned and looked to his book shelf. He had hidden his lyrium kit in an empty book there. Hidden from Cassandra, from the Inquisitor, from himself. At most times, it worked fine. It was a book he would never pull out by accident; it was a manual on how to get over sea sickness in the fastest way possible. There was no point in denying it; Varric told everyone who stopped by his desk long enough. At least he wasn’t telling about his... defeat at Wicked Grace.

Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose and looked at his reports. They were so many... Rylen requested something again; whatever it was. The Western Approach was an endless hole of never ending problems, it seemed. He knew if he didn’t do these reports now, they would multiply endlessly before nightfall.

He swiftly decided to take a break in his... loft upstairs. He turned towards the ladder and climbed up.

|

Once up, he threw himself across his bed, armour and everything. He thought about last night; how he had enjoyed that. He would admit he had had these thoughts for a while, now. To see them actually realised was really pleasant. Cullen had forgotten how _nice_ this could be. There haven’t been many nice days in Kirkwall. He smiled a little, until his head started hurting again. He had hoped to spare her the dealings with his nightmares. She had enough to care about already; he didn’t want to add to that pile.

And still, she had comforted him. He had liked that; even though he hadn’t exactly deserved it. It _had_ been his choice after all; so he had to deal with the consequences. He had foolishly hoped Lavellan wouldn’t have to see it. At least his nightmare had been calm that night.

|

*

|

Cullen awoke with a start. Not knowing where he was, he sat up on the bed and took in his surroundings. That wasn’t the Circle. His room in the Circle wouldn’t be so big. And it most certainly wouldn’t have a hole in the roof.

And then he remembered. This was Skyhold; this was the Inquisition. Right, he had come up here to take a quick break. How long had he been up here...? It couldn’t have been long, since nobody had tried to wake him up yet. Or perhaps his soldiers had just shouted and he hadn’t heard? It had happened before. That had been quite shameful; but he had worked four days and nights straight before that.

He stood up and briefly wondered about his armour. He wasn’t wearing it; and yet he was fairly sure he had thrown himself across the bed still wearing it. Maybe someone had taken it off? But why? And even if, why didn’t they wake him at that point? Cullen turned around towards the ladder, when he caught something reddish in the corner. Hastily, he spun around – his coat. His red coat hung in the corner. He was awake. There was absolutely no reason for any Demon to stand inside that corner.

Not wanting to think about it, he quickly descended the ladder; and made his way into the War Room. Perhaps Leliana and Josephine were there... and even if not, he could still look at the map and plan movements.

|

The way to the War Room wasn’t too far. Yet, he still felt it was too far away. Added to that, he also felt so many eyes on him. Somehow things seemed... odd. There was a headache creeping up, he knew it. Perhaps Dorian still had some tea he could borrow. And perhaps he should have simply stayed in bed; waiting for someone to come look for him.

Cullen looked over the battlements. In the distance, he could see Cassandra hitting the Training Dummies. In the courtyard, things went on their usual business. Nobody was minding him. He kept going, passing through Solas’ study. The elf wasn’t here, and Cullen stopped to look at his paintings. They were pretty, he always thought. Then he looked up, half-hoping to see either Dorian or Leliana up there. Since he could see neither of them from his position, he moved on.

The main hall of Skyhold was surprisingly empty. Was it still too early for all the nobles to gather here? Cullen didn’t understand why they needed to be here in the first place, anyway. Wasn’t being in the mountains way too uncomfortable? Josephine possibly charmed them here, to show their open support. Ensuring their safety however seemed to be something the ambassador didn’t really care about too much.

Cullen made his way through the hall, reaching Josephine’s office. She wasn’t behind her desk, so he had hope she was in the War Room. Or perhaps she was greeting nobles. Was there someone coming? He usually knew. He couldn’t remember anything. He rubbed his forehead and really hoped Dorian still had some leftover tea. The mage said it was a mixture especially from Tevinter, but Cullen didn’t really care.

He walked the small hallway to the War Room. Even until now, nobody had the time – or will – to fix the wall here. Cullen had to admit, he liked it like it was now. Getting some light and air inside was nice... hence why he would always find an excuse not to have his roof fixed. The Inquisitor would likely insist on it one day... or he moved into her rooms? He did blush a little. Her rooms _were_ a lot nicer than his. She _was_ the Inquisitor after all. Embarrassed, he coughed and pushed the doors open. The room was empty. He was a little... disappointed? Anyway, he closed the door and moved to his usual spot at the War Table. Perhaps his fellow advisors would join him later? Sometimes Leliana strode in, just to make sure of things. Or they would be coming look for him.

|

“Where did you get that scar, Cullen?”

“Ah, I... I really don’t like talking about my scars, mind you.”

“Did you get it in Kirkwall?”

He chuckled. “Maybe. Perhaps I slammed myself with a door. Or I got into the range of a recruit. Would that amuse you, Inquisitor?”

“It’s sexy.”

He blushed like a little Chantry boy. “Ah, well... that’s, uhm... thank you?” Nervously, he started rubbing his neck. When did the Inquisitor arrive? Did she enter quietly? Or he forgot. Yes, that was the explanation. Perhaps he should look at her. Why was he looking at the maps? Had he wanted to do something? He was talking with the Inquisitor. He shouldn’t be looking at the maps.

Clearing his throat, he looked up; smiling at her; and then his face fell.

Cullen stumbled back, until his back reached the wall. “That... what... what... that’s not... how... Maker, have I fallen asleep standing? _Again?_ ” He heard his heart hammering in his ears, while he desperately tried to wake up, for he must really be fast asleep.

The Inquisitor wasn’t here. She who held her place _should not be anywhere anymore_.

She tilted her head to one side, looking at him. She was holding him in place. It was terrifying.

“Keep breathing, Cullen, and _blink._ ” She ordered and he did. He took a breath and he _blinked_. Maker, he wished he hadn’t. It took all his willpower not to scream.

Sweet, little Amell wasn’t sweet and little anymore. Suddenly she was covered in blood and the remains of Abominations. There was... gore on her; and perhaps she was bleeding too. Cullen didn’t want to see, but he couldn’t look away either.

“Look around”, she ordered and again, he did. He wasn’t in the War Room any longer. It was dark, uncomfortable and yet so familiar. _Things_... growing out of the walls, dead abominations laying around, his friends... He gulped. Cullen pressed himself loser against the wall; he wanted to shut it out, _he wasn’t there anymore_. But it didn’t work. Usually, it helped telling the dreams to go away. When he looked at Amell again, she had come closer. She was kneeling. Why? Had he been sitting? Had he fallen down?

“They said you love me. You were blushing. It was adorable.”

Cullen didn’t know how to respond. The Inquisitor had said the same. She had said it after his shameful defeat at Wicked Grace. It had been so embarrassing. Good. That was good. He needed to remember more, remember Amell less.

“Did you really love me?”

He clenched his jaw shut. Maybe if he stopped responding, stopped _listening_ , it would go away. But he wanted to answer her. Yes. _Yes_. In these past innocent times, he had wanted to hold her hand, hold _her_ , and kiss her every so often. But she was one of his charges. He had to keep her safe, even from herself. But he did not, did he? She was dead now. And he, to his biggest shame, was not. There was new blood on her face now. She was bleeding. Something had gotten to her head. Cullen wondered if it hurt. Was she in pain? Had she hoped he would come back, to save her? Or just to hold her while she died?

“I’m sorry.”

Amell reached her hand out, and he shied away. She could still touch him, a _demon_ surely would, but... she lowered her hand again. Cullen didn’t understand. Why should she be sorry? She had been fighting; she had tried to protect her friends, _him_... She shouldn’t be sorry. Not now, not ever. Slowly he shook his head, still refusing to speak. He still wanted her to vanish.

“If I hadn’t asked you to find Irving... maybe you could have gotten out. If I had been a better mage, I could have saved you.”

She looked down and he was confused. What was happening? It had never been like this before. And how could she think it was her fault? He was the Templar. He should protect _her_. Cullen wanted to touch her cheek, but he stilled his movements. Amell looked up again. When she spoke, blood came out of her mouth, dripping onto her robes. Cullen recognised these. Irving had given her these after she passed her Harrowing. Something to remind everyone that she was a true mage now. He had liked seeing her in that outfit.

“I liked you, too.”

His eyes widened. He had never thought she would ever return his affections. Romances in the Circle were always the same: something quick to still someone’s desire, breaking up when things started to get complicated. In Kirkwall, he had seen it often enough. Mutual affection was easily crushed.  Hence why Greagoir ordered him to strike the Killing Blow if Amell’s Harrowing went wrong. Cullen wanted to say _something_ , but his words failed him now.

“They killed me when I tried to heal one of the other mages.”

He almost chuckled at that. Amell had always been helping everyone else. She risked her own studies to go and help someone else. The First Enchanter had been amused by that, he heard. He still remembered how she had showed him around in his first weeks at the Tower. Only later he had learned she had skipped her lessons to do so. She had laughed it off, when he asked her about it. Things had been so easy back then. Amell would take his hand and he would blush; and she would laugh even more. He had loved her laughter.

“It didn’t even hurt. I just wished I could hold your hand again and see you blush. Your blushes always were so damn adorable.”

She put her hand across his and he looked up at her. Her face was red, stained in blood, both old and new. She was still bleeding. Her other hand wiped across his cheek and only then he realised he started crying at some point.

“My little noodle-head grew up. I wish I could have saved you in Kirkwall. And yet here I am; a dead memory in your head. Can you remember that? I never hated you. I never blamed you. All I hoped for was your safety. I’m sorry, Cullen.”

She kissed his forehead.

“Your Dalish mage waits for you. I’ll try and keep the demons away. Maybe I can still save you, after all. How would you like that, little noodle-head?”

_“Cullen!”_

|

*

|

He practically awoke with a jolt. Panting heavily, he stared into the concerned faces of the Inquisitor, Leliana and Josephine. Lavellan was sitting between his legs, holding his face in her hands. Amell had been there, too. Cullen looked around the room. No flesh-things growing from anywhere. No blood; no dead friends.

“Cullen, do you know where you are? Do you know who I am?”

He looked at her, answering: “Yes. Yes, I do. I, I apologise. I didn’t mean to... didn’t mean to worry you. Forgive me.” Lavellan stroked his cheeks, and it felt good. Her hands were warm and dry. “You worried me – _us_ – when you just wouldn’t react to our calling. Josephine came to fetch me when you walked past her in her office without saying something. Dorian complained, too. You may have to make it up to him.” She smiled, trying to light the mood. He decided to play along. “I won’t point out his cheating tactics next time we play chess.”

“Are you better now, Commander?” Josephine asked and Cullen nodded. “I... yes, I am. Thank you. It won’t... I mean, it... it won’t happen again, I hope.”

The women got up, and Lavellan helped him. It was embarrassing, but worse things had happened to him until now. He just needed to remember the Wicked Grace night. “Maybe I should return to my office. Unless you, ah, needed me for anything?” Maker, he hoped not. Lavellan smiled and shook her head. “It can wait, Cullen. I’ll walk you back.”

She took his hand and started leading him away. He did blush a little. “Inquisitor, may I ask something...?” She hummed her approval without turning around. “Are my blushes adorable?” Lavellan stopped and turned around. She looked at him, and she started laughing. “They most definitely are, Cullen.”

He gripped her hand tighter and she moved on.

|

Back in his office, she kissed his cheek. “Don’t work too much today, okay? I’m coming by later with some food. I’m sure Josephine has reports I need to pretend to be reading.” Cullen chuckled and pulled her into an embrace. “I’m sorry for worrying you, Inquisitor. It’ll be better from now on.” He let her go and she smiled at him. “I’m here, Cullen. As long as you’re here, I’ll keep your demons away.”

She turned around and left; leaving Cullen wondering what he did to deserve such protection... twice.

|

Later at night, he was sitting in his bed. Lavellan was at his side, mumbling quietly as she slept. After Lavellan had left his office before, he found a crumbled note on his desk. Its existence terrified him to no end and still – it comforted him somehow, too.

He would keep Lavellan safe. This time, he’d be better. And if that meant holding her hand when he couldn’t save her... it would be more than Amell got. And Maker willing, he would even try to blush.

 

_I’ll keep you safe, little noodle-head._


End file.
